Letter to Greta: 35 Months
Dear Grets,
I'm writing this letter late, but your third birthday is approaching and I wanted to be sure to slide one in before that. It's been a big, big month for you, with the start of preschool. You were so excited to begin--and so excited on your first day, holding a sign that said "First Day of Preschool 2014" for pictures on the front steps, and traipsing jauntily to school with Lucia, Daddy, and me. When we got there, however, your high spirits evaporated, and you clung and sobbed when I left. When I returned, I was told that you'd stopped crying quickly but had a "sad day." Indeed, when I peeked into the room just before pickup, I saw you at the little table with the other kids, who were all having a snack while you stood with the teacher at the end of the table, red-eyed and sad-faced. When the parents came into the room and you saw me, your face gave way, and you began sobbing so heart-wrenchingly that I, too, began crying. Not a great first day for either of us, little one.
The next few times were no better, although I managed to keep my own tears under control. Things have slowly and steadily improved. A few times you haven't even cried at drop-off, and you're almost always happy and smiling now when I pick you up, and you talk about having had a "fun day." Your teacher said you're talking and playing more. I'm confident you'll come to love preschool just like Lucia did. You still seem like such a tiny little baby to me--it's hard to believe you're actually in preschool at all, even though you're the oldest in your class.
Your speech has continued to improve by leaps and bounds. Today, your speech therapist, Emily, told me you're close to not even needing to have therapy anymore--there are still particular sounds you're struggling with, but you'll likely come to them on your own, and she said soon we'll probably take a break and let your natural development progress for a while. Yay for you. You talk nonstop and are intelligible almost all of the time now. Some things flummox you, like "Princess Celestia," whom you call "Princess Ce-yaya." Other things you say are just too, too cute: when you're playing with a family of toys, you'll call the babies "Mommy's sweeties." Too adorable. You also say "I want my mommy" when you're sad or upset, which I find adorable too.
You're still napping for one and a half hours, sometimes two. You usually wake up in the morning around 6:45 or 7. You're no longer a shockingly ravenous eater--you're pickier, and you don't eat as much as before. You're still incredibly tall--other kids haven't caught up yet, and maybe they never will.
Favorite toys/activities: puzzles (you can do 24-piece puzzles and even larger on your own), My Little Ponies, coloring
Favorite books: Teeny Tiny Ghost, Patterson Puppies books, Georgie and the Robbers, Chamelia
I'm writing this letter late, but your third birthday is approaching and I wanted to be sure to slide one in before that. It's been a big, big month for you, with the start of preschool. You were so excited to begin--and so excited on your first day, holding a sign that said "First Day of Preschool 2014" for pictures on the front steps, and traipsing jauntily to school with Lucia, Daddy, and me. When we got there, however, your high spirits evaporated, and you clung and sobbed when I left. When I returned, I was told that you'd stopped crying quickly but had a "sad day." Indeed, when I peeked into the room just before pickup, I saw you at the little table with the other kids, who were all having a snack while you stood with the teacher at the end of the table, red-eyed and sad-faced. When the parents came into the room and you saw me, your face gave way, and you began sobbing so heart-wrenchingly that I, too, began crying. Not a great first day for either of us, little one.
The next few times were no better, although I managed to keep my own tears under control. Things have slowly and steadily improved. A few times you haven't even cried at drop-off, and you're almost always happy and smiling now when I pick you up, and you talk about having had a "fun day." Your teacher said you're talking and playing more. I'm confident you'll come to love preschool just like Lucia did. You still seem like such a tiny little baby to me--it's hard to believe you're actually in preschool at all, even though you're the oldest in your class.
Your speech has continued to improve by leaps and bounds. Today, your speech therapist, Emily, told me you're close to not even needing to have therapy anymore--there are still particular sounds you're struggling with, but you'll likely come to them on your own, and she said soon we'll probably take a break and let your natural development progress for a while. Yay for you. You talk nonstop and are intelligible almost all of the time now. Some things flummox you, like "Princess Celestia," whom you call "Princess Ce-yaya." Other things you say are just too, too cute: when you're playing with a family of toys, you'll call the babies "Mommy's sweeties." Too adorable. You also say "I want my mommy" when you're sad or upset, which I find adorable too.
You're still napping for one and a half hours, sometimes two. You usually wake up in the morning around 6:45 or 7. You're no longer a shockingly ravenous eater--you're pickier, and you don't eat as much as before. You're still incredibly tall--other kids haven't caught up yet, and maybe they never will.
Favorite toys/activities: puzzles (you can do 24-piece puzzles and even larger on your own), My Little Ponies, coloring
Favorite books: Teeny Tiny Ghost, Patterson Puppies books, Georgie and the Robbers, Chamelia
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